


Lifeblood

by herbert_east



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Animal Death, Blood, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, POV Fiddleford H. McGucket, Swearing, Vampire Fiddleford H. McGucket, ford will show up eventually I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 01:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbert_east/pseuds/herbert_east
Summary: Series of short-fics set in an AU where Fidds is a vampire. Including but not limited to: his youth struggling to come to terms with himself, his attempts at finding food, and his tumultuous relationship with one Ford Pines.[TWs listed by chapter]
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines
Kudos: 5





	1. A Note On Vampires

In this fic, wild vampires are just that: wild creatures. They aren't sentient and prey on large mammals, mainly humans, in rural areas. They're humanoid and have large, reflective eyes for seeing in the dark. Their saliva (which is remarkably clean and induces blood clotting) carries a disease that turns people into vampires.

Human vampires are just people that survive a wild vampire bite. While the wound heals quickly, they develop a chronic disorder a few days after being bit, a condition known as vampirism. This changes a few parts of the body, namely in the mouth and digestive tract. Tooth enamel (especially the canines) grows longer & sharper for rending flesh, and the victim requires for at least 50% of their diet to be blood or raw meat. A vampire who doesn't adjust their diet would be like a human living off snack food - it's possible short-term, but you won't live very long before your body starts shutting down. Vampires are accepted in most societies, since they can live off animals, but more conservative areas tend to demonize them.


	2. An Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: depictions of violence

It was the middle of August, and it was hot. Fidds could practically see the heat on the cars, shimmering like a mirage, baking the earth and drying the grass. Such hot weather meant it was much easier to convince his parents to let him stay inside, giving him the time to work on his latest project.

It was a homemade camera, made out of scavenged pieces. His mom and dad were always saying he should've just saved up and bought one, so he didn't have to sit in his stuffy room all day, but he honestly preferred building it himself. It was more rewarding to take pictures with something his own hands had made.

The camera had been finished for a day and a half, but Fidds hadn't gotten to take it out of the house yet. It was an unusually warm year and he couldn't stand being outside for more than a couple minutes. Fortunately, rain had come in this afternoon, and now he could go and really test his hard work.

"Ma, I'm going out," he called as he slipped out the door, grabbing a bag in the process. He didn't wait to hear her response - neither of his parents minded him being outdoors, running through the nearby fields and forests. All they cared was that he returned by dinner and didn't get any injuries that would require a doctor. 

And, of course, that he stayed Safe. This was different from the usual don't-break-your-arm safe - this was related to wild vampires. They were rumored to exist in the nearby wilderness, but Fidds had never seen one, and the only person he knew who had was a very old woman with one eye. Said woman also regularly got in arguments with her dogs and was in jail every other month, so he didn't fully believe her. As long as he stuck to the areas he knew, he would be fine, and his parents let him run wild.

As he hopped off their porch and started on his journey, he took a deep breath of warm air and enjoyed the coolness. The ground was still damp, squishy even, and he relished the temperature after so many weeks of scorching heat - his clothes felt comfortable now instead of stifling. 

He was heading for the forest on the edge of his family's property. To get there, he took an old dirt road that ran along their cornfield, where the plants were basically full-grown; next month they'd start harvesting, which meant many long days of working for Fidds. The corn harvest was important to his family, and therefore important to him, even if it left him exhausted.

The road was quiet. It didn't go anywhere in particular, but was the fastest route to the woods, so it was worn down quite a bit, mostly by the McGucket children. Fidds specifically had been walking this path since he was old enough to be trusted alone. His shoes squished in the now-muddy dirt and left shallow prints behind him.

Soon he'd reached the woods, where oak trees grew on both sides and brambles sprouted across the road. It wasn't maintained as well out here but that didn't matter - Fidds knew where he was going, path or no path.

He walked uphill through the forest while humming quietly. Around him, birds chirped softly and squirrels ran through the bushes, forming the natural symphony he associated with these woods. 

The sun was setting behind him, casting thick, golden shadows through the trees. He could see his own shadow stretching over the roots, comically long-legged. He'd need to walk back fast if he wanted to be in time for dinner.

As he neared his destination, the ground began flattening and the trees thinned out. He sped up, excited, and held his camera close to his chest.

Fidds stopped suddenly, smiling. Before him was a low cliff and waterfall, forming a natural clearing - it glittered beautifully in the evening half-light. Shrubbery grew thick and fell over the rocks like a green carpet. The water ended in a small pool, which fed a stream that ran further downhill, disappearing around a bend. Fidds took a few steps forward then sat down on the grass.

Taking up his camera, he angled it at the waterfall and snapped a few pictures. He took out each and held them carefully while they developed. He smiled when he saw how they came out - the image was a bit fuzzy, but overall good, and he was proud of his work.

Fidds spent a while there, sometimes moving to get shots of different things around the clearing. At one point he tried to balance on top of the waterfall and practically fell in, saving himself only by grabbing a bush for dear life and swinging awkwardly into the grass - afterwards, he checked his camera all over, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief that it was okay. A few of the pictures were muddied, but he wiped them off on his shirt and they ended up fine.

By the time he ran out of film, the forest was darker than he remembered. The sun was gone now and the sky growing black. Fidds felt a spark of panic - he'd stayed out too late before and it never ended well. At this rate, he'd be stuck doing the laundry for three weeks straight. Cussing quietly to himself, he turned and hurried back into the trees, stuffing his camera and pictures into his bag.

Running wasn't the smartest thing to do in a dark forest. As he rushed down the hill, his foot caught on a root, and he was sent tumbling into the undergrowth. He howled in pain and landed face-first in a bush.

Sitting up slowly, he groaned and checked his hurt foot. He rolled the ankle and was relieved to find it functional, just a little bruised. Huffing, he stood up, going to check his bag.

It was hard to see in such dim light, but the camera looked fine, if scratched on the side, and the pictures were just bent a bit. He relaxed and packed it away again. Moving slowly now, he started descending the hill again, but froze at a sound on his left.

Whipping around, he stood still and glared at the shrubbery. He couldn't see anything, but he could've sworn he heard a twig snap… maybe it was from him standing up? He checked underfoot, but the ground was bare, smushed down by his body. 

There it was again! It sounded like the slow rustling of leaves, like a large creature trying to hide itself. Fidds felt the hair on his neck stand up and he clenched his fists. 

"I swear to God, if that's you, Monty, I'll tell mom!" He hollered valiantly. Monty, AKA Montgomery, was his mischievous younger brother who loved to trick him. He could see Monty following him out here to hide in a bush and scare him.

Fidds waited for a response, but none came. He wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing. But then… what was that shadow? He squinted, trying to tell if it was a deadfall or rock, but it looked too natural. Too much like the slope of an animal's muscular back.

Fidds didn't have time to register what he was looking at before it launched itself at him. He screamed in horror. There was only one thing it could be - a vampire.

The beast tackled him into the bushes, all sharp claws and gnashing teeth. It was bigger than him, and stronger, holding him down easily. Its eyes flashed yellow.

Fidds kicked against its belly, but was no match for such a creature. He slapped his hands uselessly against its head and neck. All of a sudden, its teeth connected with flesh, digging into his left shoulder - Fidds screamed and pushed at its face with his other hand.

Thinking fast, he then reached down into his bag, grabbing the camera in shaky fingers. He brought it up and bashed it at the vampire's head with all the force he could muster. It whelped, and released him, stepping back - Fidds leaped to his feet and dashed madly down the trail.

The world was a blur of darkness and pain. He stumbled, tripping over roots and rocks, but never fell over out of pure survival instinct. He could hear the creature chasing him, crashing through the forest like a hurricane. He had to get home.

Soon the trees thinned and the path cleared. Fidds broke out onto the dirt road again, shoes pounding against the damp ground as he ran. He was faintly aware of the vampire's steps disappearing, and knew it wasn't following him anymore, but he didn't care and didn't stop moving.

His house grew in the distance. Its yellow windows looked like salvation.

When he reached the porch, he jumped onto it and threw the door open, not bothering to see his family. He rushed to the stairs and took them two at a time up to his room. Finding it, he slammed the door shut and launched himself at the far wall.

He landed in a heap and laid there, panting. He stared at the door for a few moments - he half-expected for the vampire to bash it open and kill him. But there was nothing, so he began to stand up, legs shaky with adrenaline.

Fidds moved to his bed and sat down heavily. He took off his bag and threw it to the floor. Carefully, he stripped off his shirt, which was sweaty and covered in dirt. He brought up his right hand to examine his wounded shoulder.

The fingers came back bloody - he winced, registering several deep cuts made by the vampire's teeth. Panic welled in his stomach as he realized the saliva was probably in his bloodstream already.

He knew what was supposed to happen to a vampire-bite victim. They became ruthless monsters, fueled by bloodlust - demons who destroyed whole towns in their hunger. That would happen to him now. He'd lose his own mind and then attack everyone, most likely starting with his own family. 

He felt sick. Nobody could know that this happened - if they did, they'd kick him out, at best. At worst… well, his dad didn't own a shotgun for nothing.

Fidds looked at the blood on his fingers and started tearing up. What was he supposed to do now? Lie to his family, put them in danger, all to save himself? 

Then again, he didn't feel particularly different now. He was just in pain and tired from running, not wanting to go eat anybody. Maybe it'd take a few days. If it did, then he could stay here, just until he started to lose it… then he would run away and his family would be safe. Yeah. Stick around while he was still healthy, then leave on his own terms. That was a good plan.

Fidds wiped his tears away and sighed. Sitting around crying wouldn't help anything. Plus, his family was downstairs, and his mom was probably angry with him. He needed to get cleaned up and go join them like nothing happened.

Standing, he began searching for something to soak up the blood. There was a pile of unsorted clothes in the corner, so he grabbed a shirt and bundled it up with one hand, pressing it to the wound. It stung, but he ignored it.

There was a roll of gauze under his bed. He was outside a lot, and knew basic first aid, so his parents let him fix most things himself; maybe he could tell them he fell off a rock or something. Fidds grabbed the gauze and tucked it under his arm.

Now to clean the wound. Holding the shirt and gauze tightly, he crept to his door, listening to see if anyone was upstairs. Luckily, it was quiet. The bathroom was just across the hall - quickly, he dashed to it, closing and locking the door behind him. He settled against the sink and set down the gauze.

He pressed the shirt against his shoulder for a few more seconds, then removed it, relieved to see that it wasn't too ruined. He realized that vampire spit might make the blood clot, so the victim wouldn't bleed out before they started feeding. He shivered and pushed the thought away.

Putting the shirt down on its clean side, he opened the small medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. This was going to hurt.

Grabbing a clean towel, he ran some water over it, then poured a bit of peroxide. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he then lifted the towel and pressed it quickly against the bite wound.

Immediately, fresh pain shot from the injury, and Fidds clamped his teeth to stay quiet. It felt like he'd set his shoulder on fire. He threw the towel down after a few moments, tossing it in the sink and looking in the mirror to see his shoulder wound fizzing white.

"Fuck," he whispered. He knew the peroxide was supposed to soak in, but damn did it hurt, especially on a big wound. He steadied his hands on the edge of the sink and counted the seconds.

Pretty soon, the fizz had gone down. Fidds ran cool water over a different part of the towel then wiped his shoulder, clearing away any extra blood or peroxide. It didn't sting as badly as before. Once it was clean, he dabbed it dry, then grabbed the gauze.

This was the easy part - he'd wrapped shoulders before, even his own once. Soon it was securely in place and he was able to start cleaning up. 

He bundled the shirt, towel, and gauze into a big ball, hiding the blood stains inside. He held it under one arm and peeked into the hallway. Finding it still empty, he returned to his room, stuffing the ball of fabric under his bed to deal with later. He also grabbed his bloody shirt and put it there too.

Sighing, he picked out a fresh shirt, one that was a little baggy to hide the bump of the gauze. He slipped it on and checked to make sure his face was clean. Great, he thought, feeling strangely at ease.

Now he just had to face his family. Part of him worried they knew, but that was impossible. He'd say he fell on a rock or into some thorns - he just cut up the skin a little, that's all, no need to worry. No need to worry.

Fidds opened his door and started downstairs.


	3. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic animal death (chicken), gore

The sun had been down for hours and Fidds was laying in his bed. He should be asleep by now - he'd spent ages staring at his window, where the moon drifted in and out of cloud cover, sending a pale square of light onto his floor. 

It'd been four days since his encounter in the forest. His mom worried about his shoulder, but he blamed it on a bad thornbush and she calmed down, just telling him to keep weight off of it. He was relieved that she didn't suspect he was lying.

So far, life had been surprisingly normal. The bite wound was closed and the scab would be peeling soon. Then he could go back to wearing tank tops - it was obnoxious to wear t-shirts everyday, especially since the weather was hot again, but at least he was off chores.

But… things had changed. Just that morning, he'd woken up with a new pit in his stomach, like normal hunger but distinctly stronger. He ate extra breakfast to try and stave it off, but that didn't work. He tried to ignore it, blame it on getting sick, but he knew what it was really from.

He was starting to lose himself. That had to be it. The process of becoming a vampire had begun, and pretty soon he would have to leave. Except he really didn't want to. The thought of packing up and hiking off into the woods forever left him teary-faced… he couldn't stand abandoning everyone he knew, even if he had to. He didn't think it was going to be this hard.

This was too much to think about. Huffing, Fidds sat up, rubbing his eyes. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well go walk around. 

He climbed out of bed slowly, careful not to make too much noise. He didn't want to explain himself to anyone right now. Creeping out of his room, he headed down the hall and stairs, treading lightly to avoid the wood creaking.

Soon he was on the first floor. Going to the door, he cracked it open, slipped out, and shut it behind him. 

The night air was warm, and a slight breeze ruffled his messy hair. Fidds strolled out from the porch onto a gravel walkway leading around the house. He felt safe, knowing he was close enough to call for help if he needed it, but also knowing nothing dangerous would come this far into their property.

As he walked, he started thinking about his problem again. Where would he even go if he left? The forest? He loved the trees, sure, but they'd been dampered by his last night out there. He hadn't even recovered his camera. 

Living all alone sounded… well, lonely. Plus, now he knew a vampire was out there, and he had no idea if it'd leave him alone or try and finish the job. He shivered nervously. What if he ran away only to be eaten? 

Fidds didn't feel nearly as confident in this as he did the days before. Reaching the back of his house, he ventured out a little, then sat down on the cool gravel. His stomach was still aching, now especially since he hadn't eaten for a few hours. He groaned.

He certainly wasn't ready to leave tonight. But he didn't know what he'd do to get rid of this hunger. He leaned onto his back and stared up at the dark sky. 

"Now what?" he sighed to himself. 

A sudden noise startled him upwards. It was the familiar clucking of chickens, kept in a coop behind their house. He hadn't realized he'd laid down right next to their pen. Two of the hens were standing at the fence, looking at him and chirping softly, obviously confused at seeing him out so late.

Fidds' stomach grumbled and he immediately felt bad. Their chickens were kept for eggs, not meat - he'd even helped raise a few of them. Those chickens were practically his kids. But… what choice did he have?

Well, if he was going to do this, he couldn't do it here. Carefully he stood up and stepped over the fence.

"Hi Pumpkin," he said quietly, crouching down to be at the hens' level. They pecked his shoes then looked up at him curiously. One was white-and-black, named Pepper, while the other was reddish-brown, named Pumpkin. He had chosen those names when they got these two last year. 

I can't do anything to them, he thought. He loved them! His stomach grumbled again and Pepper stepped back. He shouldn't take a young one, especially not a young one he'd picked out, named, and raised. Fidds moved slowly to the coop itself.

Inside, the rest of the flock was sleeping. He felt a little nauseous when he considered what he was doing, but he pushed it away, reasoning that this was the best course of action. If he wasn't leaving yet, but he was getting hungry, then he couldn't let himself starve… he'd just take some of the old animals who didn't produce anymore. That wasn't wrong, was it?

No. It wasn't. Fidds looked over the chickens, seeking one in particular - soon he saw her and approached her nest. She was an eight-year-old hen named Wheatie. She'd stopped laying eggs last year, so she wasn't helpful anymore, only kept around because she was rather friendly. Fidds knew she was the best option, but it still felt like a betrayal.

Wheatie woke up as he stood above her. She looked at him with small, beady eyes, beginning to cluck softly and tilt her head. "Sorry, girl," Fidds breathed, before picking her up and carrying her out of the coop. 

Pumpkin and Pepper looked at him as he passed. He didn't meet their eyes. Instead, he left the pen, and began walking down the path to find the back of the cornfield. He didn't want to be within sight or hearing range of the house when he did this.

Wheatie shifted in his arms, but he held her tightly so she wouldn't fall. He didn't think he had the heart to chase her if she took off. The walk felt impossibly long, but soon the corn ended and he walked into the weedy meadow beyond it.

His house glowed in the distance, but luckily the corn covered it the further he went. Fidds looked at Wheatie and thought over what he was about to do. Should he stop, and just drop her back in the coop? What would happen then? What if his hunger only grew, and overcame him, and then… oh, God. No. He had to do this right now.

Fidds sat down clumsily. The moon shone down on him and a breeze rustled the corn. Wheatie was making more noises now - with old age, she'd developed an attitude, and didn't like to be held very long. Fidds took a deep breath, then shifted onto his knees.

He moved Wheatie so she was pressed against the ground. She clucked loudly, almost like a wail, and Fidds closed his eyes as he closed his hands around her throat. Her wings beat against his arms and he hoped she didn't have emotions. "I'm so sorry," he muttered.

Then, with a swift motion, he snapped her neck.

Wheatie fell silent. Fidds couldn't help but start crying. What was he doing? He wept for a minute or two, his hen's lifeless body on the dirt in front of him. Then he sniffled a few times, wiped his eyes, and sighed. It was either this or go mad.

Now that he was staring at something dead, he felt a strange instinct taking over. He grabbed Wheatie's body and lifted her carefully to his mouth. Then he opened his mouth and bit down on her neck.

He was surprised by how fast the skin split. Blood rushed into his mouth - it was still warm. He choked at first, then was hit by a wave of satisfaction so strong it overtook his anxiety. It was like scratching an itch that'd been there for a week straight. Chicken blood was delicious.

Fidds sat there for a while, kneeling in the dirt, gulping down as much blood as he could. Its neck dried pretty fast, and he moved down the body quickly, biting and ripping at the dead creature - his hunger was dissipating now. Sticky feathers clung to his face and shirt as he ate.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he regained his senses. He gasped, dropping Wheatie's remains - she was decimated, bones exposed from the chunks of flesh he'd bitten off. He stumbled backwards, nearly gagging. 

"Oh my God," he mumbled, "Oh my God. Oh my God." He repeated the mantra as he looked down at himself, hands and chest coated in slick, red semi-liquid. His mouth tasted strongly of iron but it seemed good now. 

I had to do it, he thought. This was for the best. Slowly he calmed down. He stood up, stripping off his shirt, realizing some of the blood had seeped onto his skin. He'd need to clean off before going inside. 

What would he do with the body? He turned and examined the surrounding area. The grass stretched out to some hilly country, where it eventually joined with another farm's land, but he didn't want to just… dump her. He should've grabbed a shovel. 

He picked up Wheatie's broken body and gathered her in his arms. He walked out into the fields, soon coming across a ditch overgrown with thistles. He doubted his family would find her here… maybe a fox would, though, and give her a natural burial. 

He leaned down and rested her among the weeds. Then he moved them slightly, covering her feathers and hiding her from view. This would be his secret and his alone. Once he was done, Fidds stepped back. 

"Rest well, old girl." He whispered it into the warm night air. Then he turned back and started towards the cornfield again. 

He grabbed his shirt and held it beside him as he walked. There was a hose behind the house - he could spray off his skin and wash the shirt tomorrow. 

Gravel crunched under his feet as he went. He passed the chicken coop, and realized Pumpkin was still there, eyeing him. He looked away and wondered if she'd miss Wheatie, or even notice her absence at all. 

He found the hose easily. He turned it on, low-pressure, and aimed it at himself. The water was shockingly cold and he winced away for a second before leaning into it. He should get this done quickly.

Once the blood was washed away, he sprayed the grass, making sure it soaked into the dirt and wouldn't be seen tomorrow. Then he used the back of his shirt to wipe most of it off. Satisfied, he headed around the house, starting back to his room.

Was this something he could do again? Maybe if he ate farm animals he could stay with his family. But how would he explain away the disappearances? Was he able to kill things every few nights to stay alive? He sighed heavily.

He didn't need to decide right now. He didn't know if the hunger would come back. If it did, he'd pick a course of action then - right now, it was late, and he was tired. Eating left him exhausted. 

Fidds went into his house and up the stairs silently. His parents and siblings were all asleep. He crept into his room, stuck his filthy shirt under the bed, threw on a new one, and crawled under the covers.

Part of him felt distinctly dirty for what he just did to poor Wheatie. But another part of him felt… happy. Well-fed. Like he'd fulfilled a purpose. And he still didn't want to eat a person.

But what if I will want to? He put a hand over his face. If that happened, he could still leave. He could still stop himself.

...Right?


	4. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: reference to self-injury (not out of self-hatred)

Fidds didn't think he would last more than a week before things got bad. Even that felt like a stretch. In stories, the vampire always succumbed within a couple hours - then they'd go on a rampage, tear everyone apart, and it'd end with a valiant hero shooting them down. Simple, black-and-white, without any icky details.

Instead, the first week passed, and then the second, and Fidds was left in an uncomfortable cycle: wait until the hunger was unbearable, take the weakest animal he could, and then lie when his parents noticed it missing. So far he'd eaten Wheatie, a sickly piglet, and two wild rabbits. 

His body was changing, too. The wound left a nasty scar - he hoped it would be vague, but it was very mouth-shaped, to the point that he knew anyone would recognize it as a vampire bite. He'd needed to take drastic measures to hide it.

At night, he'd gone out back with a razor and old towel. He got as far from the house as possible, ending up crouched in a field, and put one hand over his mouth to keep quiet. Then he'd carved extra holes into his shoulder, in the style of a thornbush, and laid crying until he got used to the pain. 

He hardly slept that night. The walk home was slow, pressing a towel to his shoulder with one hand and gripping the razor with the other. He hosed off both, re-wrapped his wound, and sat in bed for a few hours while contemplating what he'd done.

That was a while ago now. The gauze had been removed after a couple days, and luckily his plan worked - the scar looked random enough to hide its origins. His mom was shocked, but accepted his story.

Unfortunately, that wasn't where his troubles ended. His mouth was different now. His teeth were growing longer, more pointed, like a wolf - predator teeth. At first he thought about filing them, but that was too far even for him. He could just… not smile. That was easier. Safer.

Now, it was nearly a month since the encounter in the forest, and Fidds was - so far - hiding it well. Who cares if he cringed every time he saw his shoulder? Who cares if he stopped smiling with his teeth? It was better than the alternative.

It had to be better than the alternative.


	5. School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: swearing  
> (also, idk how to word this but basically parts of this are based around experiences i've had with homophobia? so it might remind you of that)

Fidds didn't usually go to school. But now, with August ending and September beginning, he would attend some classes in town while his parents ran the farm. Monty went too, but his older siblings would stay back, home-schooling and helping out around the property. Fidds would probably do that too in a few years.

Restarting school was very anxiety-inducing, considering recent events. School meant more people to lie to and more people who might notice something weird about him. Luckily, the first week went fine, and that soothed his worries.

But then something happened that he wasn't expecting. A new movie came out: Bloodlust. Fidds considered this a new worst nightmare, right behind 'parents find out I'm a vampire and shoot me'. 

Bloodlust was a supposedly true story, about a guy getting bit by a wild vampire. He then went crazy, ate several people, and was killed at the end of the story, but a scene before the credits teased a sequel where he survived. The whole thing was incredibly R-rated and bloody. 

The second Fidds heard the synopsis, he knew it was bad. Sure, he wasn't happy to be a vampire, but he was coming around to the concept that he might be able to stay in town. He'd been satisfied with animals so far, and it wasn't like his morals changed with his teeth. It was a shaky plan, but it was something, and it felt better than waiting to run away. This movie would only make him worry more.

Of course, everyone else loved it. For most of his classmates, it was their first horror movie, and they took to it like fish to water. 

All the talk in the hallways was "Did you see Bloodlust?" and "Oh my God, vampires are terrifying!" and "Imagine if that happened here!". For Fidds, it was like hell.

Of course this would happen just when he started accepting things. Why wouldn't it? He never got a break, not since the forest. 

The teachers weren't helpful either. Most of them were either religious or just products of the town, and they weren't happy about all the vampire talk. 

Two days after it got released, Fidds was sitting down in study hall. It was a warm Thursday afternoon and he was very sick of everything. So, of course, everything went further downhill.

They were being supervised by the literature teacher, an older woman named Mrs. Earl. She was incredibly religious and incredibly annoyed by Bloodlust.

After attendance, Fidds was expecting to just sit and do schoolwork, but of course things didn't work that way. Instead, Mrs. Earl asked for everyone's attention, then said a sentence that made Fidds' blood go cold:

"Students, today we're talking about Bloodlust."

Immediately he wanted to leave. But he knew this lady, and she was notorious for keeping kids in class, especially during a PSA (of which she had many). Maybe he could just block it out.

"I know movies are fun for people your age, but this movie is a dangerous glorification of vampirism, and I won't sit by while you all discuss it. So today we'll be going over the facts of vampirism." Mrs. Earl gestured wildly with her hands as she spoke.

Fidds gripped his pen and stared at his desk. This was stupid. Incredibly stupid, actually. _What the hell does she mean, glorification? The guy's a serial killer._ His own life glorified vampires more than that movie. 

Mrs. Earl was talking again when Fidds looked up. 

"Some cities in this country have started to accept vampires. This is dangerous." Her voice cut through the air like a knife. "If vampires infiltrate our society, we won't be safe anymore! Kids will be trapped inside! Do any of you want to be trapped inside?"

Grumbled agreements spread over the class. Fidds grit his teeth, but forced himself to nod, trying to ignore the anger bubbling inside of him. 

"Vampires may imitate humans, sure, but their disease changes the brain. Science proved this years ago. Morals are lost, and then social bonds, and then they turn on friends and family! They are monsters, and monsters cannot be accepted in American society!" 

Fidds was scribbling furiously in his notebook. Not anything in particular, just violent lines, forming an angry black cloud. It didn't make him feel any better. Mrs. Earl kept talking, but he wasn't listening anymore.

 _She thinks I want to kill people,_ he thought. _Maybe I do. Maybe I was wrong._ He sniffled a bit. _No, that can't be right, I- God! What the fuck! This is stupid!_

A ripping noise distracted him. The paper had given way and torn several layers down. Quietly, he tore the papers out, and balled them up to shove in his bag.

Mrs. Earl seemed to be finishing her speech. "Students, don't forget what I told you. The world may claim it's right, but we know the truth, and we can't let them allow predators into our towns." She cleared her throat. "Now, you may work on homework until study hall is over." 

Fidds suddenly realized how distinctly bad he felt. It was like his chest was full of cotton, scratching the inside of his lungs and throat. He recognized it as the urge to cry.

 _Gosh, what kid cries after a PSA,_ he thought scornfully. He raised a hand and balled the other into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. 

Mrs. Earl looked up. He gestured towards the hallway and she nodded. Fidds jumped to his feet, leaving his bag on the floor, and walked to the door as calmly as he could manage.

In the hallway, he dashed towards the nearest bathroom and locked himself in a stall, leaning against the door heavily. Then he pressed a hand to his eyes and tried to desperately fight back tears.

What would he do if Mrs. Earl was right? He was doing his best, but he was just fifteen. He had no idea what would happen to him next. All he'd ever heard about vampires was that they became bloodthirsty monsters hellbent on destruction… what did he have to dispute that?

Experience, he supposed, but that didn't hold up very well. He could only kill so many farm animals before people got suspicious, and the wild rabbits would run scarce with winter. He'd have to go back into the forest for food, and that brought its own dangers. 

_Necessary dangers_ \- he was a bit surprised by the thought, but it was either that or starve to death. 

Well… that was truer than anything else. If he hunted wild animals, he could get by for a while longer, but refusing to do anything would land him dead in a week. Then everyone would know what he was. He probably wouldn't even get a funeral.

Fidds steadied his breath, wiping a few stray tears from his face. The cotton in his chest was letting up now. This could work. Hunt for the winter, see how he felt, and decide what to do from there. 

As for school… he'd have to be careful. No one could know about this. He'd go in the bathroom to change for gym, he'd smile with his mouth closed, he'd pretend like everything was fine. Because everything was fine. 

So far, anyway. He took several deep breaths then left the bathroom, heading back to class.


End file.
